There were several adjectives that could describe the state that Ronald Weasley currently found himself in. Nervous was the one at the top of the list, however, with several side effects, including the overwhelming feeling that he was about to vomit. He paced around the small living room of the inexpensive flat he'd purchased with Harry and Hermione after the war, his mind spinning, and all his energy focused on not getting sick. Harry was off with Ginny, Hermione was out shopping, and he was left alone and waiting rather impatiently. He had a plan – a very simple plan, really, but it was a plan none-the-less, and he wasn't quite sure how it was all going to go.
Twirling the diamond ring between his fingers, Ron stood still finally, looking forward at an imaginary Hermione, and taking a deep breath. He could practice before she showed up, right? Of course he could!
"Hermione – love - I've got something to speak with you about. Now, now, don't look so worried," he was quite convinced she'd assume he was being the bringer of bad news with how he'd started this all out, and he had to note that just in case, "I've got nothing horrible to tell you. I just… I've been doing a lot of… thinking." Yes, thinking. Ron liked to do it on occasion, despite what everyone else said. He was a very deep thinker at that, too, and didn't just day dream about food and half-naked girls (though those were very high on his list).
"You and me – You and I? Er… We've been dating for a long time, yeah?" He nodded, pretended to have her respond, and then rambled onwards. "Well, it's… it's about time we took this to another level, don't you think? NOT sex, so don't even start lecturing me on that one." He imagined that it would be her first assumption as she seemed to jump to that sort of conclusion with him constantly. It was almost like Hermione thought more about sex than he did – though, that would be quite a feat if it were true. Clearing his throat, he began to feel his hands getting jittery, and he returned to playing with the ring, though this time with it in his pocket.
"I love you. Not in that overly infatuated, idiotic school boy way, but I really love you. You're the kind of person I see myself with for a long, long time and I'm hoping that you see that too. You mean the world to me – ever since we were teenagers, I've always thought you were a likely candidate for 'The One', and the older we get, well… The more solidified that concept becomes in my mind. You're like that light that came out of the Deluminator all those years ago… Hovering, floating just out of my reach, but when I come to you, you nestle yourself… Right here," he placed his hand on his chest, swallowing roughly, before he gave a weak smile. "You make me feel confident… Warm… Fuzzy… Strong… Grown Up… Accepted… Wanted. You're the one that I want. Always."
He paused, lowering himself onto one knee as he pulled the ring from his pocket, and held it out. "And… I want you to be my wife. Please."
A few seconds later, he heard the door creak open, and as he tried to get up, he slipped, falling to the floor with a loud bang. Scrambling to his feet, he slipped the ring back into his pocket quickly, looking to the entrance of the flat, and seeing a very confused and amused Hermione Granger standing before him. Coughing a bit to clear his throat, he took a deep breath.
"Hermione - love - I've got something to speak with you about."